A Struggle to Survive
by supernaturaldh
Summary: After their Dad’s death, the brothers investigate bizarre killings in the Minnesota woodlands. Bad weather, a sick Sam, and an unfocused Dean, make the hunt a struggle to survive. WINNER 2009 SNTV AWARDS- BEST MONSTER AND CREATURE
1. Chapter 1

"**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh **

**Summary: **After their Dad's death, the brothers investigate bizarre killings in the Minnesota woodlands. Bad weather, a sick Sam, and an unfocused Dean, make the hunt a struggle to survive. A Limp Sam, Big Brother Dean Story.

**Setting: **Sometime in Season 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them, but I wished I did.

**Chapter 1 **

**Just Like my Brother **

Dean Winchester slammed the library book in his hands closed with a loud thud, an exasperated sigh escaping from his frowning lips. Several faces rose from various areas of the quiet room, eyes fixated on the sandy haired man. He felt Sam's shoe bang abruptly against his leg, and he raised his eyes to glare across the rickety table at his little brother.

They had been holed up in this library all day long, researching the hunt that brought them to Minnesota in the very dead of winter. The town of Osanti was so far off the beaten path that they didn't even have the internet. So, here they were, researching in the run down library. It was freezing cold outside, almost two foot of snow covered the ground; and Dean would have rather been anywhere but here. _Research had always been Sam's gig, not his._ He glared at his brother and stood stiffly up.

"I'm taking a break," he offered, "I'll be outside." Dean rolled his shoulders, and attempted to release the tension that had knotted in his neck muscles from hours of reading boring facts and figures.

Sam inhaled thickly, the tickle in the back of his throat making him stifle an unexpected cough. He glanced up at the clock on the library wall. _Jeez, they had only been researching for 2 hours, and Dean was already quitting?_ He nodded agitatedly at his older brother, "Whatever," he muttered, swallowing against the rawness in his throat. He let his burning eyes fall back to the pages in front of him.

Dean sauntered toward the doorway, just happy to be escaping the stuffy environment. He tugged the zipper up on his leather coat, and stepped out into the wintry midday air. _The cold, or the library, no real choice on that one. _He grinned to himself as he moved hastily toward the Impala, and the much needed heat.

-o-

Sam's tired eyes scanned the pages of the historical book about the area. He yawned with a sigh, and rubbed his bleary lids attempting to focus on what he was reading.

There had been 3 victims, each found over the last 3 months. All the victims were found just outside of Osanti, all during a full moon. All the victims had been ripped to shreds, clawed, and chewed on, until they were unrecognizable. Each one so mangled they had to be identified by their dental records.

The hunters had spent the last two days talking to the victim's families, friends, and town's folk, in an attempt to make heads or tales out of what they were actually up against. They had met the only survivor, a 13 year old boy, and the son of the last victim. The kid had cried large tears as he told of his father's death and the echoing screams around him as he ran numbly from the woods. He sobbed when he told how his father had pushed him out of the way and yelled for him to run. The boy broke down when he stated that his father had given his life for him.

That's when Dean had left, went outside; no longer interested in what had happened or why_. _

Sam had wanted to follow, make sure his brother was okay, but figured Dean needed time alone. So he stayed, asked more questions, found out the creature resembled a lizard, had large red eyes, sharp teeth, and claws.

Then, Dean had brooded all the way back to the motel, and Sam was sure he was thinking about their Dad - the sacrifice he made to save his oldest life.

Once they arrived at their room, the evening had just been one big argument. Dean insisting that they go directly past go and hunt the ugly mother right away, Sam being adamant that they do additional research, have all the facts before they go off half cocked into the woods.

Dean eventually gave up, rolled his eyes at his kid brother, and stomped angrily from the room, saying he was going for a beer.

Sam was once again left alone to read through all the research. Ever since their Dad's death, Sam had felt alone, even when his brother was around. Dean seemed to be lost in his own world all the time. He was erratic, moody, and out of sorts, and that scared the heck out of Sam.

-o-

The weary hunter dropped the large book back to the tabletop and yanked up one of the newspapers that Dean had pulled earlier. He sorted unenthusiastically through the obituaries, making detailed notes on the latest victim. He squinted, and rubbed his burning eyes. _Why was he so freaking tired? _

The ringing of his cell phone pulled him from his research; he grimaced, then hurriedly yanked it from his coat pocket and punched the silent ring button. He glanced up to see numerous faces glaring at him and the old librarian giving him a stoic frown. He nodded weakly at her, and mumbled, "Sorry," as he moved quickly toward the front lobby. His eyes darted up to check the clock as he made his way to the doors. _It had been an hour since Dean had left; it was just like his brother, leaving him with all the research…again. _

"Sammy?" Dean's voice blared excitedly through the cell phone.

"Dean? Where'd you go?" Sam asked hoarsely.

The younger man reached his hand up and covered the phone receiver as he cleared his tickling throat. He could barely hear Dean's voice over the noisy bar. He waited sullenly for his big brother's reply.

"Listen, I'm playing some pool and I got the upper hand. I figure I can make some cash. So, you walk back to the motel, and I'll meet you there in a couple of hours for the hunt."

Sam rolled his eyes. _God, Dean sure pissed him off sometimes. _

"But Dean, it's like two degrees outside."

"Oh come on Sammy, it's not that cold…I'm winning money here….you know, stuff we use for gas and food." Dean said sarcastically.

Sam released a heavy sigh. _They did need the money. _

"Okay," Sam whispered as he rubbed his aching head, "I'll meet you at the motel."

"Great" Dean said hastily, the phone line dead before he even got the word completely out.

Sam snapped his cell phone closed and zipped up his lightweight jacket. He blew out a heavy sigh, angrily yanked open the library door, and shivered as his pale skin met the chilly mid-afternoon air.

-o-

Sam's was cold as he walked steadfastly toward the motel. It was only four blocks, but seemed like miles to his shivering form. The frosty air chilled him to the bone and he tugged at his flimsy jacket. He could see his foggy breath as he exhaled, frosty particles dancing lightly around his face. He stared glumly at the ground, then, kicked absently at a stone beneath his water soaked sneakers, sending it flying off in a mound of frozen snow. _Damn it, Dean pissed him off._ He sucked in the freezing air, feeling it sting as it traveled down his scratchy throat, and settled heavily in his lungs. He shoved his icy hands into his pockets and willed himself to walk faster.

-o-

Dean Winchester watched eagerly as the eight ball fell in the right corner pocket, a satisfied smirk tugging to his lips.

The large biker released a light chuckle as he forked the hundred dollar bill reluctantly over to Dean's anxious fingers.

"Good game, buddy." The large man grabbed up his half empty beer bottle, gave Dean a little salute, then, chugged the lukewarm liquid

Dean grinned, "It's been fun, dude."

"Double or nothing?" the leather clad man asked as he sat his empty beer to the pool table.

"Nope, got to get back to my kid brother," Dean smirked, stuffing the bill into his blue jeans pocket, he guzzled down his beer.

-o-

The walk from the library to the motel room had exhausted Sam; he could feel his chest rattling with every wheeze of air. His head was hurting and he was sure he had a fever. _I feel like crap._ He shuffled his frozen body into the room, moving slowly to his duffle, and grabbing up the half empty bottle of Tylenol. He quickly dry swallowed three tablets. He thought for a moment about removing his damp coat and wet sneakers, but his dog-tired limbs did not want to comply. He fell, boneless against the musty bedspread, as sleep immediately claimed him.

-o-

The sun was falling behind the treetops when Dean pulled the Impala into the motel parking lot. _It's late, Sam will be pissed. _He shuffled hastily out of the car, knowing he and Sam needed to hustle in order to get to the woods, and get set up before dark.

"Sam, you ready?" the older brother's voice boomed as the motel doorway flung loudly open. He screwed up his eyebrows when he saw Sam, face down on the bed, cheek squashed against the pillow, drool dripping from his chin, sound asleep. _Lazy bum. _His hand slapped his brother on the leg as he walked rapidly toward the bathroom.

"Hey, Sammy, rise and shine….hunts a-waiting."

Sam felt a firm hand bump against his leg, and he blinked open his bleary lids. He lay still on the bed, listening as the bathroom door closed with a thump. He gulped in a long breath of air, attempting to pull oxygen into his congested chest. His sore throat ached, and he swallowed convulsively, wishing he had a cough drop. He stared blankly at the ceiling, and contemplated not going on the hunt tonight. _ Not an option, people were dying._

"You ready?" Dean flipped off the bathroom light, and peered through the dimly lit room at his brother's shadowy form.

Sam nodded, and watched Dean's back exiting the room. He pushed slowly to his feet, swayed slightly, and followed his brother out into the cold evening air.

8


	2. Chapter 2

"**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Beta: Kokoda2007 – So glad my beta is back, she keeps me focused and on track. Thank Kokoda!**

**Chapter 2 **

**No Time for Whining**

The ride from the motel, to the woods outside Osanti, was filled with blaring radio music, neither brother talking inside the Impala.

Dean's eyes stared fixedly across the windshield through the darkening light. His thoughts were of the pool game, and his final shot; the one that had rolled the ball steadily into the side pocket. He grinned smugly to himself, and let his fingers flit to the radio volume, AC/DC thundering to an earsplitting level as the car hummed rapidly down the highway. _Boy, I am good.. _

Sam sat mutely in the passenger seat, bloodshot eyes hidden behind his chestnut hair. He swallowed, and cleared his scratchy throat; the annoying tickle that rested there would not go away. His eyes were burning, and his chest seemed to ache with every gulp of air. _The nap had obviously not done him any good, as he felt worse now than he did before._ He stuffed his cold fingers into his jacket pockets, wishing he had some gloves. He tugged the worn material up tighter against his shivering limbs. _Suck it up, Winchester; people are dying, no time for whining._ He heard Dean crank the radio up another ear shattering decimal and cringed, his stuffy head throbbing in time to the beat.

-o-

The Impala pulled to the side of the dark gravel road, the hazy glow of the full moon shining brightly across the white snow. Dean flipped off the radio, and bounded out of the car, moving quickly toward the trunk.

"Get a move on Sammy, time's a wast'n. We got a 3 mile walk to get to where the ugly monster killed its last victim."

Sam heard his brother's words, and registered quickly that Dean was now in a great big hurry to get to the hunt. _Amazing…Big brother in a hurry now, didn't want to help me do research all afternoon, didn't want to pick me up at the library, but now, he's ready to go?_

Sam pushed the passenger door open slowly, the cold night air assaulting his aching senses. Every muscle and joint felt stiff and achy, and he stumbled slightly, hand reaching to grip at the metal passenger door. _He was definitely sick. _ He sneezed viciously, four times in a row, and moved his arm up to hastily swipe his drippy nose with the cuff of his shirtsleeve. _Nice… just what I need; a snotty shirt sleeve._

Dean's face flitted immediately up and over the trunk to Sam; while his agile hands continued stuffing the flashlight and salt rounds into his pockets. He gazed quizzically at his little brother. _Is he getting sick?_ He reached for his bowie knife, matches, and kerosene, not exactly sure what they were hunting. "_You can never be too careful, always come prepared",_ his fathers words echoed in his head.

"Hey, you okay?" Dean paused, concern evident on his face, he squinted in the dimming light at Sam.

"I'm fine, I think its allergies." Sam muttered hoarsely as he gave Dean his best 'I'm not sick' face and moved toward the back of the Impala.

"God, I hope so. I hate it when Samantha gets sick." Dean rolled his eyes, a tiny grin curling to his lips.

Sam released an exasperated sigh and bit his tongue. _Like a sick Dean was a picnic? _He trudged sluggishly to stand next to his brother.

Dean handed Sam his shot gun, flashlight, first aide kit, and a flare gun, then, promptly slammed closed the trunk.

"Let's do it," the older brother said cockily, his boots crunching lightly against the snow, as he made his way into the woods.

Sam shivered and followed, his sneakers already soaking in the damp moisture as the icy snow buried the tops of his shoes.

-o-

The glare of moonbeams bounced off the glistening snow as the two hunters made their way into the darkness.

Sam was having a hard time keeping up, Dean moving double time through the snow-white woods. He stumbled, his toes already numb, as he scurried to push his stiffening limbs forward.

Dean could hear his brother fumbling along behind him, panting loudly with every breath. _Shit, Sam's sick._ He immediately paused, and turned to look at Sam.

Sam stopped abruptly, almost bumping into Dean. His wide eyes gaped through the moonlight at the blue green eyes glaring back at him.

"What," he whispered huskily.

Dean shook his head, and turned abruptly, moving back along the snowy path.

Sam struggled to keep up, to stifle his coughing, sneezing, and all around feeling like crap. He sighed and attempted to focus his bleary head on the hunt. _What are we hunting? A Wendigo, a Bunyip? Nope, don't think so. _He would have really preferred more research, but Dean had turned into Mr. Gung Ho since their father's death, throwing caution to the wind on every hunt. He sniffled, and brought his sleeve up to wipe his runny nose. _He sure didn't want Dean to know he felt like crap. _ _No one else needed to die._ He focused on Dean's back, his brothers warm looking boots, and followed intently behind.

-o-

Sam was hunkered down against a large oak tree, long legs leaning intently against the bark, his frozen fingers resting against the trigger of his salt gun. He could see his brother's silhouette across the clearing, Dean poised to move at a moments notice. He attempted to stifle the coughs that were brewing up against his throat, but they busted raggedly across his lips, breaking the silence. He reached his icy hand up to cover his mouth, hoping his brother didn't hear. He looked across the clearing to Dean. _No such luck._ Dean's flashlight flipped on then flittered to Sam's face.

"You okay?" The older hunter yelled curiously.

"SHHHHH, Dean, be quiet." Sam offered up, his voice sounding strangely hoarse and squeaky. "Get that damn light out of my face, I'm fine."

Sam could see Dean shaking his head as he flipped off the flashlight. He vaguely heard him mutter, "Yeah, sure you are."

They sat in silence, the cold night air nipping at their skin.

Dean listened as Sam sneezed, snorted, and coughed for nearly two hours before he finally decided his little brother needed to be somewhere warm, out of the cold, and preferably medicated. _Besides, I am freezing my ass off. _

"Hey Sam, lets call it a night."

"What?" Sam's voice was barely audible after two hours of setting in the frigid air, hacking up half a lung.

Dean began to shuffle across the clearing toward his brother, when he suddenly stopped, dead still. _He heard something_. His head tilted slightly, listening as the wind blew through the trees.

"Hear that?" Dean whispered. His eyes squinted then darted around the darkness. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. _Something was here_.

The sound of rustling dirt and leaves caught both hunters attention, their eyes staring into the dark.

Dean stood stock still and held his breath. Something was moving beside him and he slowly moved his head to see. _What the hell?_

The next moment was a blur, a monstrous creature rising up out of the snow covered mud to stand right next to Dean. The beast resembled a mutated cross between a lizard and an ant with big red eyes on the sides of its head. The large teeth gleamed brightly in the moonlight, its huge claws rearing back to lung at the oldest hunter.

Dean's mind raced. _This was no Wendigo, this was a Yowie, and how the hell did a Yowie end up in Minnesota?_ He heard Sam's hoarse voice yelling his name, as the large creature lunged at him, sharp talons penetrating his jacket, his shirt, and his skin as it clawed across his muscled flesh.

Sam blinked his feverish eyes. _Was that a freak'n Yowie_? He immediately yanked up his salt gun, knowing the pellets would not kill the creature, but would give him time to get to Dean. He fired, the salt hammering the monsters flesh, as it screamed loudly and disappeared back beneath the dirt. _Well, that just pissed it off. _He made three large strides; salt gun clasped tightly against his side, as he lunged forward, his free hand grabbing a hold of Dean. He gripped his brother tightly as Dean's eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped limply toward the ground.

7


	3. Chapter 3

"**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Beta: Kokoda2007 - Awesome as usual!**

**Chapter 3 **

**Who's taking care of whom?**

Sam's hand reached out and closed quickly around Dean's forearm, helping to ease his unconscious sibling back against the snowy ground. He slid promptly down beside him, dampness soaking through his tattered blue jeans and making him shudder.

The moonlight was dim, and Sam yanked his flashlight from his coat pocket, shining it across Dean's face. He sighed with relief when he saw the puffs of warm air that permeated from his brothers slightly parted lips. His eyes did a quick assessment, immediately noticing the ripped fabric and blood pooling against Dean's side. _Damn Yowie._

The young hunter placed the flashlight on the ground, allowing the light to illuminate around the area. He sat stock still, eyes staring into the darkness as he listened for the Yowie, but all he heard was the wind. He returned his eyes to his brother and the dark blood that was now soaking through Dean's shirts, his jacket, and resting heavily against the top of his jeans. The sight made Sam's stomach lurch, and he swallowed convulsively. He swayed woozily and sucked in a calming breath, a hacking cough escaping from his lips.

Sam's eyes burned, and he blinked them several times, attempting to focus, and clear his vision. _Okay, now what?_ His head felt foggy, his thoughts a jumbled mess._ Why can't I think clearly? _ He pulled the small first aide kit from his coat pocket and opened it unsteadily; balancing it a top his shaky leg. He was suddenly racked with another coughing fit; and the kit tumbled haphazardly to the ground. He fought for control of his breathing, struggling to pull short bursts of air into his aching lungs. _My _ c_hest hurts, throat feels like sandpaper._ His body slumped forward dizzily, his unstable hands palming the icy snow, attempting to hold him self up. Momentarily, he balanced his wobbly body and slowly leaned back, resting against his haunches. His eyes stared down at Dean's blood soaked side. _Okay, okay…focus here, take care of Dean. _ The words became a mantra in his head, willing him to find the strength to help his older brother.

-0-

It took all of Sam's energy just to bandage Dean's side. _The cuts were bleeding profusely, and probably needed stitches._ The younger hunter stayed focused, as he cleaned and covered the wounds, just like he had done numerous times before. When the last wound was finally bandaged, he pulled his injured brother up to rest against him, wrapping his long arms snuggly around Dean's chest. _Big brother would be pissed; this was way too much like a hug._

"Dean," he murmured, as his adrenalin waned and exhaustion took a hold. _They needed to get out of here; he needed to get them out of here. Just rest a minute and then move. _ He leaned wearily back against the tree, the cold air seeping into his bones. His weakened body fought to stay in control, but, slowly it succumbed to the raging fever, and he drifted off to sleep.

-0-

Dean's eyelashes fluttered. _God, it was freaking cold. _ He refused to open his eyes, and nuzzled his head firmly against the warm pillow. _What was that rattling sound? _ He burrowed down deeper into the stiff fabric. _Holy crap, something's wrong with the motel heater? _ He pulled his knees up toward his chest, attempting to curl in on himself, and find some warmth. An unexpected sharp pain launched excruciatingly down his side, and he gasped, his closed eyelids darting open.

He stared briefly into the darkness, attempting to gain his bearings. _Where the hell was he? _ Slowly his mind began to comprehend the situation. _Outside, in the dark._ _That's why he was so cold, they were on a hunt. Yeah, a hunt… A Wendigo, no…no…a Yowie, yeah, that was right, a freaking Yowie. _ _Did he kill it? Did they kill it, they…where was Sam?_ Another pain spiked across his side, and he bit his lower lip to stop a cry from escaping. He pushed futilely to sit up. He felt the arms clutched around his shoulders suddenly go lax, and reality sank in. _He was propped up against Sam's shoulder, the kids long arms wrapped snuggly around his chest._

"Sam?" Dean whispered, as he pushed away from his brother.

Sam's long arms fell limply down against his lap.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was gentle, as he turned his head slowly to look at his little brother's face. _Was Sammy wheezing?_

Sam's eyes were closed and he looked like he was sleeping. His flushed face seemed totally oblivious to the stuttering sounds coming from his own congested breathing.

Dean struggled to move away. _His brother looked like shit, how long had they been out here? _ He let his fingers rub against the gauze that was wrapped snuggly over his side. _Obviously, it was long enough for Sam to bandage him up. _ As he pushed to his knees, his eyes fell to the spilled first aide kit scattered on the ground around them. He turned to get a clearer look at Sam, his brother's face feverish, his bangs sticking awkwardly to his forehead.

"Sammy?" Dean said with apprehension. He reached his cold hand up and cupped his brother's rosy cheek, his finger tapping lightly against the kid's lax face. _God, Sam was burnin' up._

"**SAMMY** ?" Dean spoke louder as his hand caressed his brother's damp hair and he whispered words of encouragement. "Come on Sammy, nap times over, time to wake up". _Damn, the kid feels like a furnace. _

Sam's brow twitched, his lashes fluttering lightly as he stirred.

"That's it, come on," Dean urged, hoping he would see familiar wide hazels looking back at him.

Sam's eyes opened to mere slits, puzzlement evident on his feverish face. Slow recognition etched across his features as glazed, unfocused, eyes stared back at Dean.

"Hey there, kiddo," Dean whispered, "bad time to take a nap little brother, it's freezing out here."

"D…D…Dean?" Sam's hoarse voice shivered with the cold. His tone sounded confused, out of sorts, as he tugged in a ragged breath of air. A coughing fit instantly overcame him, and his body racked forward viciously, as it seemed to be hocking up a lung.

"Its okay," Dean reassured, his hand now flat between Sam's shoulder blades, patting and rubbing in an attempt to help.

The older brother chewed on his lower lip, stifling down his own pain, as his big brother instincts kicked in full force.

Slow, even breaths, Sammy…that's it, slow, catch your breath." _Shit, Sam was really sick; he needed to get him out of here as soon as possible. _

The oldest Winchester strained his torn side, the pain spiking across his mid section, as he lugged Sam's trembling body up against him. _Take a minute to think, to sort this out, and get Sam out of here._

Sam grasped at Dean's jacket, fingers fumbling around to make a connection.

"Dean," he wheezed.

"It's okay Sammy; we're getting out of here."

Sam's bloodshot eyes looked deliriously at his big brother's face. He struggled to pull in enough oxygen as a violent coughing fit ravaged his feverish frame.

-0-

5


	4. Chapter 4

"**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Beta: Kokoda2007**

**Chapter 4 **

**No Such Luck**

The brothers sat huddled together in silence for several long minutes. The cold breeze whistled through the trees.

Dean dug his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out his cell phone, praying he had cell reception in the middle of no where. No such luck. He stuffed the phone back into his pocket, and gazed down at Sam's flushed face. His brother's eyes were closed as he dozed, leaning heavily against him. He could feel the heat radiating off the kid.

The older brother shuffled, his side hurting more than expected. He knew the bleeding had resumed, a warm patch soaking against his skin. He gulped in some cold air and glanced at his glowing watch dial, it was 11:45 p.m., which meant they had been out in the woods for over five hours.

Sam's body gave an involuntary shiver, and Dean placed his fingers gently against his feverish face.

"Sammy," he said softly, "Wake up, we got to get out of here."

The older hunter released a grunt as he began to manipulate his little brother more comfortably against the tree. An immediate razor-sharp pain assaulted him, an intense throbbing, that took his breath away. He pushed it back and focused on Sam.

Sam blinked several times, eyes looking glazed over as he stared at Dean and mumbled, "…Kay."

"You remember when we got lost in that snowstorm with Dad?" The older brother rambled softly.

Released from his burden, Dean pushed slowly to stand himself up, swaying lightly with the motion. He quickly moved his other hand against the damp tree bark to steady his wobbly body. He felt woozy.

"Boy, we almost froze our butts off that time." Dean said, as he forced a light chuckle from his lips. He swallowed against the pain, glancing down at his bandaged side; the blood was now visible, soaking through the gauze.

His eyes rotated to his little brother - Sammy needed something for that fever.

"Okay, Sam, what'd you do with the damn Tylenol? I know it was in the med kit."

"Uh huh," Sam groaned, his voice sounding gravely and rough. The feverish hunter rolled his head uncoordinatedly around on his neck, making a futile attempt to focus his eyes and locate the bottle on the ground.

Dean bent over slowly, sucking in the pain. His fingers grasped the flashlight beside Sam's foot. The glow of the light glistened against the snow and the various medical supplies that rested on the ground. He grinned when his eye caught sight of the pain medication - he shuffled slowly down to retrieve it.

"Gotcha," he said gleefully, yanking up the bottle. The older brother popped off the lid and dry swallowed three of the white pills; immediately palming three more into his hand.

He winced as he fell to his knees next to Sam.

"Here bro," his knuckles nudged at Sam's chin, "Swallow these pills."

Sam squinted confused eyes at Dean, but did as he was told. _Never disobey an order_ . He swallowed, the dryness hanging in his throat and causing him to cough and gag.

"Easy kiddo, don't throw those up, you need'em. – got to get that fever down."

Dean's hand flattened against Sam's heaving chest and patted lightly, offering what comfort he could to his sickly sibling. The coughing slowly subsided and Dean smiled at the watery hazels that were staring glassily at him.

"Sam, we need to get you back to the car, out of the cold," he said intently, "You think you can make it?"

Sam blinked unfocusedly at his brother. "I'm f…f…fine," he stuttered out between wheezes.

"Yeah, sure you are." Dean rolled his eyes, and reached his hands down to lug his feverish sibling up. He could feel his brother slumping toward him, pain spiking in his torn side. He winced, but, yanked Sam upward.

Sam heard Dean's barely audible moan and stared through bloodshot eyes at his older brother. He squinted, looking down confusedly at Dean's bloody side.

"De...Dean, you…okay?"

Dean's arms slipped around Sam's waist, steadying his swaying motion. They edged forward, slowly.

"I'm fine Sam, better than you." Dean muttered.

He tugged his sick brother up tighter against him, teeth biting harshly into his lower lip as he stifled his own painful gasp.

-0-

Sam's movements were sluggish, uncoordinated, and clumsy as they made their way through the dark woodland. The Tylenol had helped to clear his foggy thoughts, his eyes no longer burning from the heat, but his body was shivering uncontrollably, and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. The coughing sucked away at the oxygen and he felt Dean's firm arm tighten around him. He concentrated on just putting one foot in front of the other.

Dean focused on getting his brother out of the woods; the pain in his side agonizing with every single step. He bore the brunt of Sam's weight as they trudged headlong through the night. He felt light headed, the blood oozing out and pooling against his side, but he moved them onward, knowing if he relented, gave in to his own pain, they would both freeze to death. He heaved in a steadying breath, hoisted Sam up higher against him, and continued toward the car.

-0-

An unforgiving raspy sound ravished Sam's shuddering body as he fought to inhale and expel air from his lungs. It seemed like they had been walking for hours.

"S…s…stop…" he hacked out; his heavy limbs flailing and pushing away from Dean.

"Sammy," Dean stumbled and pulled to keep Sam upright.

"Rest…." Sam said between ragged breaths; wheezing in air. His knees buckled and he sank slowly toward the snowy ground, coughing violently.

Dean side spiked a sharp pain as his brother slid against him. He tightened his grip on Sam's arm, and allowed him to ease gently downward.

"Whoa, take it easy," Dean looked closely at Sam, "you still with me kiddo?"

"Huh?" Sam rasped, continuing to cough so hard his eyes watered.

Dean watched the cold panting puffs floating around his baby brother's face -he didn't sound good.

The oldest Winchester abruptly yanked his cell phone from his coat pocket again and checked for reception. Optimism filled his thoughts as he tilted the phone around, hoping to get a good signal. He sighed in exasperation at the one bar that stared back at him. He flipped the phone shut and stuffed it back into his coat. _Damn cell phones._ He glared around the darkness, then back to his shivering little brother - they needed to keep moving –now.

"Sammy."

Sam's eyes opened, half mast hazels staring up at Dean.

"Don't f…feel…g...good?" The younger hunter mumbled hoarsely, "T...t...tired." Sam's head lolled around on his neck, lids blinking gradually closed.

"Sam," Dean crouched down gradually, feeling the pain tugging against his torn side. He reached his hand over and firmly grasped Sam's chin, tilting the wobbly head up to look him directly in the eye. "Stay awake."

Sam blinked slowly.

"SAMMY," Dean said in his firmest John Winchester voice. "I can't carry you out of here, we're only halfway to the car, you got to stay awake, keep going."

Sammy's eyes startled open with his brother's firm words, and he nodded in response. _Another order -couldn't disobey that_ . He clamored his hands down to the cold ground, palms pushing him self to rise. He felt Dean's arm ease around his midsection and tug him gently up.

They had moved several feet forward when the big brother suddenly stopped.

"Wait," he said softly, "What was that?"

Dean tilted his head to the side, his ears listening keenly, as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

"Dean?" Sam swayed against his brother, feverish fear laden eyes blinking sluggishly at his face.

"Sammy..." Dean whispered, "Stand still."

The feverish little brother looked intently at Dean, wide eyed and confused as his long fingers immediately clutched tightly to his big brother's leather jacket.

Dean relinquished his hold on Sam slowly and eased his salt gun up in his steady grip. He sucked in a firm breath as the trigger quivered just beneath his finger.

7


	5. Chapter 5

**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Beta: Kokoda2007**

**Chapter 5 **

**Don't Shoot the Savior**

"Whoa," a familiar voice slammed into Dean's ears, "Don't shoot me!"

Dean squinted into the darkness, fingers relaxing minutely against the trigger, as his eyes glared with surprise. "Bobby?"

"Damn, you boys are hard as hell to find, much less get a hold of on your freak'n phones!" Bobby's voice was heated as he moved through the dim moonlight toward the oldest Winchester.

"Jesus Bobby…where the hell did you come from?" Dean sucked in a breath of air, shoving the shotgun into the back of his jeans.

"I've been tracking you boys for the last couple of hours. I was in the area, thought I could help you out with this hunt…didn't think I'd get shot though!" The older man snickered as Dean's face came clearly into view.

"You scared the shit out of me - I almost shot your ass." Dean huffed. He felt Sam's fingers clutching tightly to the back of his jacket.

"Well, if you would answer your damn phone every once and awhile…." Bobby trailed off as he glanced down to Dean's bloody side. "What the hell happened?" his voice suddenly full of concern.

"Damn Yowie." Dean's muttered with exasperation.

"Yowie? I thought you boys were after Wendigo?" Bobby's brow crinkled curiously. He kneeled down to look at Dean's blood-spattered side.

"Yeah, well, I was wrong." Dean nudged the older hunter's prying fingers away from the blood drenched gauze. "Stop it, I'm fine."

"Yeah, sure you are." Bobby snorted as he stood, "That needs stitches."

"No shit…" Dean's eyes rolled. He felt his little brother's body leaning heavily into his back and he turned quickly, fingers grasping at Sam's forearms attempting to hold his sick brother steady.

Bobby's eyes gaped as he saw Sam. The kid's knees buckling as he swayed and held onto Dean with a vengeance.

"Sammy?" Bobby voiced curiously, his tone weighty with unease.

"Its okay kiddo, I gotcha." A slight grunt escaped Dean's lips as he hoisted his brother back up against his wounded side.

"Holy crap, what's wrong with Sam?" Bobby stepped closer to the youngest Winchester, peering at his flushed face, and wide, glassy eyes. He snaked his arm around Sam's waist, taking the bulk of the weight from Dean.

"Bobby?" Sam mumbled eyes squinting up with confusion. He turned his head unsteadily to stare at the obscure face in front of him, a faint smile curling momentarily to his lips as a cough emerged from deep within his chest.

"I got him." Dean stated matter of factly. Now in full big brother mode, he looked from Bobby back to his little brother.

"Yeah, and I'm just gonna stand here and let you bleed to death, lugging your brother around." Bobby shook his head in disbelief. "Not happening, Dean."

Dean glared at Bobby, but relinquished his tight hold on his little brother, allowing Bobby to share part of his burden. "He's kind of out of it, got a high fever, and he's been coughing like crazy for the last couple of hours."

Sam wheezed, his body shaking with another round of coughing.

Bobby's eyes filled with worry. _The kid sounded like a damn chain smoker._

Dean's hand rubbed gently up and down Sam's back, words of encouragement slipping from his lips. "It's okay Sammy…just breathe slowly, its okay."

"Come on, I'll help you two get back to the Impala, and maybe the motel." Bobby said as he looked silently at Sam, then back to Dean. He tugged the youngest hunter away from his brother and nodded at the profusely bleeding wound on Dean's side. "Put some pressure on that."

Dean's hand pressed heavily against his side, the gauze squishing slightly between his fingers. He grimaced.

"We didn't get the freak'n Yowie." The older brother stated disappointedly as he stumbled along beside Sam. His free hand gripping at his little brother's unstable elbow, attempting to steady him.

Bobby pulled the younger man firmly up against him. _Damn, he could feel the heat radiating off the kid_ . His eyes darted over to Dean, who was still gripping onto Sam. He wasn't sure if Dean was holding onto Sam to help him, or keep his own weaving body up. _He's lost a lot of blood._

"Screw it Dean," Bobby stated, "we'll get it later."

-0-

The sunrise created a hazy glow across the snow covered ground, the steam rising up around the weary hunters. The light had steadily grown brighter as dawn rolled in across the woods.

The walk back to his truck, and the Impala, had taken far longer than Bobby Singer thought was possible. They had to stop every five minutes or so - Sam's coughing fits causing him to bend over, the ferocity threatening to topple the youngest hunter. His wheezing and congestion had intensified as the fever ravaged his exhausted body.

The senior hunter stood between the two Winchesters, one arm wrapped steadily around each of their waists, fingers on both hands clutching through belt loops.

Dean had finally given in to the weariness that had overtaken him, and accepted Bobby's assistance without complaint. The last ten minutes had been a real battle for Bobby, just keeping them both upright and moving was proving quite a job.

The Impala and Bobby's truck suddenly came into view.

"Finally," Bobby sighed.

The senior hunter gripped Sam's swaying body tighter against him, not liking the kid's disoriented movements and congested wheezing.

"It's okay Sam; we're almost there, buddy."

Sam grunted and kept stumbling forward. His head bounced unconscientiously around on his neck, fever drenched hair sticking to his flushed face.

"Sammy, did you hear that?" Dean whispered, blood dripping from the gauze bandage and dribbling through his fingertips, covering his hand.

Dean had been focused on putting one foot in front of the other, just continuing to move himself forward. He pulled his head up from staring at the tops of his boots and gazed at his faltering sibling, quietly waiting for a reaction that never came. He frowned, silent worry etching across his pale face.

-0-

With Bobby's assistance Dean moved to lean against the side of the Impala, placing his sticky fingers atop the trunk for balance. His anxious face watched Bobby slowly manipulate his barely responsive little brother into the car. Sam's exhausted body fell limply backwards to nuzzle into the seat, his limbs shivering out of control.

Bobby's hand rested for a moment against Sam's sweat soaked brow, gazing with alarm at the bloodshot hazels that squinted up at him. His fingers pushed the wet bangs away from the half mast eyes.

"We got to move." Bobby said abruptly as he looked at Dean. He stared at the older brother, hunched inward against the side of the Impala, hand covered in bright red blood.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered shakily, as he gazed at Bobby. A thin sheen of sweat swathed his pale face.

"Let's get you guy's back to the motel." Bobby said with urgency.

Dean nodded slowly, his energy waning.

Bobby grabbed him by his free arm, steering him into the car.

"Oh, I don't do the back seat." Dean's breathed out raspily.

"Gees, Dean, just set your ass down, before you fall down." Bobby shoved at the hard headed young hunter, pushing him toward the back seat.

Dean looked at Sam's flushed face, and relented, sliding slowly into car. "Just this once…for Sammy," he mumbled.

Bobby's rolled his eyes and huffed unbelievably. He slammed the passenger door closed, stowed his gear in his truck, and made hasty steps to the driver's side of the Impala. He slid in, hand lunging over the front seat, fingers dangling out in front of Dean's face.

"Keys," he stated.

Dean yanked the car keys from his coat pocket and held them out, jangling them lightly, before dropping them ceremoniously into Bobby's open palm.

-0-

The senior hunter glanced to the dash mirror at Dean's pale face; the injured hunter blinked slowly at him, a weak smile decorating his lips. Bobby then darted his eyes across the bench seat to Sam, who was slumped against the window, face flushed, wheezing loudly beside him.

The urgency of the situation hit him ten-fold and he pushed the gas peddle to the floorboard. The Impala roared to life, rumbling down the empty highway.

_He needed to get these boys taken care of..._

_Now!_

_**Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing this story. I had planned on it being short, but it seems to have taken on a life all its own. Big thanks to my awesome beta, Kokoda2007 – she is so willing to help, and never makes me feel stupid. Review as often as you like; I need the encouragement to stay focused. supernaturaldh** _

7


	6. Chapter 6

**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Beta: Kokoda2007 –As always, my thanks are never enough.**

**Chapter 6**

**He Should be Doing Something **

Bobby's mind mulled over whether to take his weak charges to the closest hospital, or back to the motel. He glanced across the bench seat to Sam; the kid was resting, half mast eyes staring glassily out the front windshield. He could hear the light rattling noises every time Sam inhaled.

His eyes darted up to the mirror and Dean's pale face. The oldest Winchester's arm was curled tightly against the stark blood stain on his side.

Dean glanced up and met Bobby's concerned eyes in the mirror.

"No hospitals," he said softly.

"But Dean…you boys need medical help….Sam…"

"NO hospitals, we're already on the FBI radar. Go – to – the – motel." Dean grunted out with conviction. He looked pleadingly at Bobby's face in the mirror.

Bobby grudgly relented.

"Okay, for now," Bobby nodded, "but, if either of you gets worse, then, I am piling your asses in the car and taking you to the hospital – you got that?"

A weak shake of Dean's head was the hunter's only reply.

-0-

The black Impala rolled to a stop in front of the shabby motel that the Winchesters were currently calling home, Dean's directions had led Bobby there without hesitation. The driver quickly shut off the engine, and turned against the leather to glace at the sleeping hunter next to him. His eyes spanned the pale features, unhappily taking in the feverish flush that decorated Sam's cheeks.

He looked over the bench seat to Dean; and the dark blood stain covering his shirt. He was rewarded as weak eyes glinted back at him.

"Sammy okay?" Dean questioned, swallowing the lump that had settled in his throat.

"He's asleep. Let's get you inside; I'll come back for him." Bobby stated firmly.

The senior hunter pushed the driver's door open with a loud screech. He moved to the back seat and reached in to grip at Dean's arms, hoisting the younger man to his feet.

"Take Sammy first." Dean grimaced, swaying abruptly.

"Whoa you okay?" The older hunter immediately shouldered the bulk of his young friend's weight against him.

"Just get Sammy, I can make it." Dean attempted to yank his arm from Bobby's grip, his body weaving to and fro.

Bobby's hand tightened, retaining its grip on Dean's arm, "Just quit your yammering, and move your ass. The longer this takes, the longer Sammy waits." The senior hunter hated to appeal to Dean's big brother instincts, but enough was enough.

Dean clamped his mouth shut, his legs making unsteady steps toward the door. He knew he was fighting a loosing battle, and the quicker he got inside, the faster Bobby would help Sam.

"Here's the key." Dean struggled to pull the room key from his jacket pocket, shaky fingers handing it over to Bobby.

The elder man swiped the keycard; the light flipping to green as he hastily turned the doorknob, and pushed the door open with his boot.

"Please, get Sammy," Dean said pleading, his hand gripping tightly to the side of the doorframe.

Bobby nodded silently. _Hard headed Winchesters. _ He left the unsteady man on his own as he hustled back to the car and his other precious cargo.

-0-

Dean made wobbly steps toward the first bed, one hand relinquishing its hold on the door frame, as his other hand gripped against the back of the chair. He moved slowly, hunched over, and sluggish. His knees began to buckle as his butt came into contact with the lime green bedspread. He sighed and gripped the ugly bed covering between his blood slicked fingers, fabric bunching in a frantic attempt to hold him upright. His eyes focused intently on the half open doorway. _Where the hell were Bobby and Sam?_

He sucked in a short gasp of air as he saw Bobby carrying his limp brother into the room. Sam looked like a small child clutched tightly against Bobby's chest, body hanging lifelessly in the hunter's arms. His face was flushed with fever, his eyes closed and his head leaning heavily into crook of the hunter's shoulder.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered barely audible. His concern skyrocketing quickly to the top of the protective big brother scale, as his eyes grew wide with alarm.

Bobby's eyes darted across the room, taking in Dean's frail body leaning against one bed, a mass of research and paperwork covering up the other. He eased his heavy burden down onto the bed next to Dean.

"You goanna be okay a few more minutes? Bobby gazed at Dean, concern, worry, and urgency evident on his face.

"Yeah," Dean nodded and shifted his body on the bed. His hand reached for, and gripped Sam's hot fingers in his own. He watched listlessly as Bobby darted toward the bathroom. He heard the tap being turned on and the water running swiftly into the tub. He cringed in the knowledge that Sammy's fever was high enough he needed to be cooled down.

He must have dozed for a second, because the next thing he knew he was being scooted around on the mattress, Bobby's agile fingers removing Sam's cloths.

The younger hunter suddenly woke up, motions uncoordinated and combative.

"No…nun…n…D'n…h'lp" the sick youth whimpered, his hands fumbling and flailing around, pushing and swatting at Bobby.

"Sam, stop it." Bobby urged - hands softly pushing back.

Sam's flailing became increasingly more distressed, wild eyes darting around incoherently.

Dean struggled to sit up, pain rippling down his side. He felt an immediate adrenaline rush pumping through his veins at Sam's begging tone. One arm grabbed a wayward hand and held it against Sam's stomach, the other reached over and tightly gripped Sam's chin in his fingers, forcing the feverish face to look him in the eye.

"Sammy, its okay….Sammy…look at me."

The thrashing slowed, feverish bloodshot hazels staring blankly at Dean.

"D?" Sam blinked owlishly.

"Yes, Sam, I'm right here, its okay, you're okay. We need to get that fever down."

"Fev'r?" Sam said weakly, his voice hoarse and frail. He gave Dean a confused stare.

"You're sick Sammy." Dean tugged his ailing sibling up against him, fingers rubbing lightly through the kid's sweat damp hair. "It's okay…I gotcha…shhhhh."

Dean felt his little brother relaxing against him, allowing Bobby to finish the task of removing his shoes, socks, and blue jeans, and getting the kid down to his boxers.

Sam shuddered, quivers racking his sick frame. He heaved in a rattling breath, as his lashes flutter closed.

Bobby swiftly pulled a blanket up around both boys, and ran back to check the running water. Momentarily he returned, squatting down in front of the brothers.

"Okay, Dean, give'im here." Bobby's arms reached out to hoist Sam up.

Dean looked up at Bobby, his head slow to process what the older man was saying. He gazed with heartbreak blue eyes as he clung tightly to his ailing brother. _He didn't want to release Sam, he needed him, and he should be the one doing this, not Bobby. _

"Come on; let's get you in the tub, Sam." Large callused hands slipped beneath the shaking limbs and physically pulled the sick sibling from Deans' arms.

The older brother stood on shaky legs and stumbled to follow Bobby into the bathroom. The slow, seeping, blood loss was beginning to take its toll, his energy starting to wane. He eased to his knees down on the cold porcelain tile as Bobby lowered the heavy burden into the lukewarm water.

One of Dean's hands reached over and held firmly to Sam's shoulder, the other pressed securely against his feverish forehead.

Sam immediately choked out a whimper as his hot limbs hit the water. His arms flailed, his fingers griping and grasping to get out of the tub.

"Easy son," Bobby whispered firmly.

"St...Stop it." Sam rasped and coughed, long fingers reaching for something to hang on to.

Tears overflowed the kid's incoherent eyes and rolled gradually down his flushed cheeks. His body shuddering harshly, his head lulling limply against the rim of the tub.

Dean's heart clutched in his chest, his voice cooing out softly, "Sammy, its okay."

Bobby grabbed up a wash rag and dredged the water over the young mans limbs, attempting to cool his hot skin.

"Noooooo," Sam's hoarse voice rasped out. He flailed uncoordinated limbs around harder, smacking and banging into the tub, the walls, and both the older men.

Dean and Bobby stayed the path, holding tightly to the feverish man.

Sam's motions slowed, then, stopped. He blinked, and looked wide eyed up at Dean. A congested wheeze escaping from his parched lips as his lashes fluttered slowly closed against his rosy cheeks. His body slack as it slid against the tub.

"Sh…sh…It's okay kiddo," Dean whispered, his fingers rhythmically caressing Sam's chestnut hair, his voice soothing and reassuring.

Bobby turned slightly, hand grasping for a towel.

Dean's vision suddenly tunneled; his chin relaxing on the top of Sam's damp hair.

"Dean?" Bobby yelped.

Dean's fingers sluggishly relinquished their hold on Sam, Bobby's voice somewhere way off in the distance.

"Shit." Bobby muttered as he pulled Sammy from Dean's weak grasp. He heaved the kid up from the tub, wrapping the towel around the limp, damp, body as he pushed to stand, staggering under the sodden weight.

Dean's hazy eyes stared and blinked blankly over at Bobby. _He should be doing something? _ He just couldn't seem to figure out what. He slumped gradually back against the chilly bathroom tile as the darkness closed in around him.

9


	7. Chapter 7

**_This story has taken on a life all it's own. I appreciate everyone reading and reviewing it. Several asked for me to bring back one of my characters from some other stories, and so I did. Please review often, it keeps me keep focused on finishing the story. _ **

**_Big thanks to my awesome beta Kokoda2007- she is a great inspiration and help to me! - supernaturaldh-_ **

**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Beta: Kokoda2007 **

**Chapter 7**

**Surrogate Sons**

Bobby teetered with his heavy burden, his own legs wavering to hold up the extra weight. He held Sam clutched tight against his chest, a low grunt forced past his lips as he lowered the semi coherent Winchester down on the lumpy bed.

Sammy shuddered, blinking wide ,slightly incoherent, eyes up at Bobby's face.

The older man gave Sam a lopsided smile as his hand wiped through the damp chestnut hair and pushed it away from the lax face. His fingers skimmed across the feverish brow. _Sam felt cooler – thank God_ . He grabbed up a cover from the floor, and swathed it tightly around the wheezing figure.

A bleary eyed Sam slurred something that sounded a lot like the word 'Dean', and then drifted off to sleep.

Bobby turned abruptly, and bounded in three large steps back to the bathroom, his eyes dashing to the pale image slumped flaccidly against the cold bathroom tile. _Shit. _ He crouched in front of Dean, gruff fingers cupping the younger man's chin.

"Hey Dean, come on, give me a sign here."

Callused fingers tapped lightly against the pastel face as Bobby waited on baited breath for a response from the unconscious Winchester. He was pleased when sluggish eyes blinked open, focusing slowly, but surely, on his face.

"Personal space ...Dude." Dean sputtered out, brow furrowing, head rolling weakly on his neck to stare at the apprehensive hunter.

Bobby released a large sigh of relief. "Let's get you off the floor, kid."

The younger hunter's lips curled up in a slight grimace, pain slicing through his side as he was lugged upward to stand on his wobbly legs. They physically stumbled to the second bed, Dean slumping immediately to the beaconing softness.

"How's he doin'?" The older brother nodded sluggishly toward Sam.

"His fever's down some."

Bobby tugged the injured man up against the headboard of the bed. His gentle fingers ghosted over Dean's injured side, worry flitting across his features.

"Fix me up, Bobby." Dean hissed, chewing unconsciously on his bottom lip.

0-

Ten minutes later, Bobby Singer pulled the last of twelve sutures through the gash on Dean's side. The eldest Winchester panted harshly through the painful ministrations, breathing in large, uneven gulps.

"Easy," Bobby said gently his hand briefly gripping Dean's shoulder. He swathed the stitches in antibiotic ointment, taping a gauze bandage firmly into place.

Dean winced, "Gees Bobby," as he panted through gritted teeth.

"Oh, don't be such a wussy." Bobby grinned up at the whining face. _He wished Dean hadn't lost so much blood – his face looked drained of all color. _

Sam mumbled and Dean immediately shifted on the bed to stare apprehensively at his baby brother.

Bobby moved to sit on the edge of Sam's bed, moving his hand up to brush away the damp bangs, he touched the feverish brow once again. Sam leaned into the touch, mumbling something incoherent.

Dean pushed weakly to sit up, but his motions were met with a stern stare from Bobby so he slumped immediately back against the bed in defeat.

"I got it Dean," the hunter stated point-blank, "You lost a lot of blood; you need to stay right freak'n there!"

Dean knew a direct order when he heard one, his head sliding back down onto the pillow.

Bobby moved another blanket up against the kid who was now hidden in a mound of warmth. He rewet the damp rag and folded it neatly across Sam's hot brow, sticking the thermometer gently back into his ear.

Dean blinked sleepily waiting on the welcomed beep.

Holding the thermometer up to the light Bobby whispered, "102.8." Anxiety edged tautly into his voice and he tenderly tucked the askew blankets up around the sick boy.

"He can't have anymore Tylenol for at least 2 more hours." Bobby swept his eyes over Dean's pale, worried face. "You rest now, I'll watch Sam."

"No, he may need me." Dean whispered, forcing his heavy lids to stay open.

"I'll wake you up if he needs you." Bobby assured. He stood and dragged a rickety chair across the dirty carpet and plopped tiredly down against it.

"Promise?" Dean's eyelids blinked lethargically.

"I promise."

The caretaker watched as Dean fought the sleep his body so desperately craved. The older boy's eyes watching his little brother as he breathed. Dean continued to blink excessively in an attempt to keep his heavy lids open.

Bobby watched both boys and shifted down further into the uncomfortable chair. A smile curled to his lips as the older brother lost his fight, and his eyelids finally closed.

-0-

The harsh ringing of a phone pulled Bobby Singer from his uncomfortable slumber. He moved his stiff limbs to fish the cell phone from his shirt pocket. He glanced at the caller ID before tugging the phone to his ear.

"Tom, that you?" Bobby stood immediately, frowning, as he looked intently at the two pale Winchester brothers. He moved hastily toward the small bathroom. _No need to wake the boys._ His fingers pulled the door half closed, leaving a partial view of his surrogate sons as he leaned against the wall.

It had been six months since Bobby Singer had seen or talked with Tom Baldwin, a fellow hunter; and a friend. Tom had become friends with the Winchesters on a hunt the previous year, he had trained with Bobby, learned the ropes. The large man fit right into their small hunting fold. He reminded Bobby of John Winchester, cocky, smart, and sometimes arrogant, but, he cared deeply about John's boys, almost as much as their 'Uncle' Bobby. Tom was willing to do anything for his friends, and in the short time they had known each other, they had gotten into a lot of tight spots, but Tom had always stuck around, fighting with them until the bitter end.

"Yeah Bobby, it's been a while, huh?" Tom's gruff laughter eased across the connection.

"Yeah, too long," Bobby sighed - exhaustion and anxiety riddling his tone as he pulled his ball cap off and flung it against the dirty porcelain sink.

Tom immediately picked up on Bobby's distress, curiosity quickly taking over. "Where the hell are you, and what's going on?"

"I'm with the Winchester's, they were hunting a Yowie, and the hunt got away from them. Don't know what would've happened if I hadn't come along?"

"Is everyone okay?" Tom's concerned voice bellowed back across the phone.

"Well, Dean got clawed up, lost a lot of blood, and Sammy, he's running a fever, think he might have pneumonia."

"Jesus…where're you?" Tom questioned, finger fumbling to gather up things and stuff them into his duffle. _These guys were like family._

"Osanti, Minnesota," Bobby stated tiredly, "we're fine Tom."

"I'm on my way."

"Tom….wait," Bobby blurted out as the cell phone went dead.

Bobby snapped the phone closed, a smile tugging to his lips. _He was really glad Tom was coming. Two sick Winchesters, and one Yowie, was way more than he could handle._

-0-

7


	8. Chapter 8

**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Beta: No beta- she is out of pocket, so all mistakes are my own! So sorry. **

**Chapter 8**

**Surrogate Fathers**

_It was so hot. _

Sam's lethargic hazel eyes blinked open, staring blankly up at the ceiling, trembling fingers shoving erratically against too many blankets.

_Suffocating him. _

His bloodshot eyes looked wildly around the dimly lit room.

_Where was he? _

_He was so hot! _

He pushed his body up on unstable arms, chest heaving with the minor effort. He fumbled to move his long legs from beneath the blankets, finally unencumbered by the weight against them; his feet fell with a thud to the cold tile floor. He panted in some air and looked wide eyed around the room, a slow realization flooding through his body. _He was in a motel room, with Dean._ That knowledge eased his distress and he gazed at the foggy outline of his older brother - Dean right where he should be, asleep on the other bed.

He stuttered breatlessly, then looked blankly at the unclear shape slumped in the chair next to him. _Who was that? _His eyes were burning so badly, he couldn't make out the hazy figure. From somewhere in his groggy thoughts, recognition slowly dawned on his feverish mind – _Dad, Dad was sleeping too. _

His limbs felt extremely heavy and he listed slightly to the side as he pushed himself to stand. The room floated lightly around him and he swallowed convulsively against the dryness in his parched throat.

_Thirsty – need some water._

He attempted to place one lead laden foot in front of the other, to move forward as the dizziness assaulted him, the room spinning around in a lazy circle. He made great efforts to suck in some air - black dots dancing in his vision. He hunched forward, head falling to his chest, as a tight band constricted across his chest.

_Can't breath…need some air?_

He fought to stay standing, his weak knees buckling beneath him as he slumped forward. His eyes rolling slowly back into his head, a low whimper emanating from his colorless lips, as he tumbled toward the floor.

"De…"

-0-

A loud thud pulled Dean from his sleep; he blinked, and looked inquisitively up at the ceiling. _What the hell? _An uncomfortable feeling nagged at him and he looked around the dimly lit room, blinking, eyes finally resting on Bobby's sleeping face. His thoughts were muddled from heavy slumber and he couldn't quite put his finger on what was bothering him.

-0-

Bobby Singer awoke suddenly, a loud noise rousing him from his uncomfortable position in the chair. He stared momentarily at the sea green eyes that were looking curiously at him.

"Dean? Go back to sleep," he muttered, pushing his stubbly chin back against the side of the chair, his eyes drooping closed.

Sudden realization hit him hard and he bounded right up off the chair, wide awake.

"SAM!" he yelped gruffly.

Dean's heart beat frantically as memory flashed across his thoughts. He hastily pushed himself upward, a slice of pain searing down his side as the adrenaline rush thrust him across the room to Sam's side. He fell on unsteady knees beside his little brother, gazing at Sam's unconscious face.

Sam was a mass of arms and legs against the cold floor, his chest rattling like an old man with emphysema, body shuddering uncontrollably.

"Jesus, he's burning up." Bobby mumbled rolling Sam slowly over, fingers ghosting across the flushed cheek. He gaped unbelievably at the heat that was radiating from the kid. "He needs a hospital, NOW."

-0-

Tom Baldwin whipped his 1987 White Dodge truck into the parking lot of the only motel in Osanti, Minnesota. The sight of the jet black Impala caught his attention and he rapidly pulled into the spot right next to it. He lumbered his large limbs out of the cab of the truck into the cold night air, his breath hovering in little clouds around his face. He shuffled quickly toward room number 8, hoping that the three hour drive had been for naught, and Bobby and the boys were all sound asleep. He lifted his hand to knock on the door when it abruptly opened, Bobby Singer bumping physically into him as he bounded out of the room.

"Tom?" the older hunter looked erratic, upset, as he pushed to get past him, "Got to start the car, get Sammy to the hospital."

Tom nodded and let the weary hunter get by him as he moved quickly into the motel room, physically aching at the sight of the two figures curled up on the floor.

Dean was pale, too pale, and struggling to hold his little brother up against him.

Sam was lax, a feverish flush covering his face, too long chestnut hair stuck in damp curls against his forehead. He was slumped to Dean's chest, blanket tugged haphazardly across his shivering torso.

Tom kneeled down, his medic training from Desert Storm suddenly taking over. He grabbed instinctively for Sam's wrist, checking the unconscious man's pulse. He could hear the rasping breathes as the kid made great efforts to take in oxygen.

"I'm sorry Sammy, this is all my fault. We shouldn't have gone on this hunt; you should have told me you were sick." A heavy sigh escaped Dean's lips. "We should've gone to the hospital…I just, I knew the FBI….." Dean's voice trailed off as he pushed his weak hand through Sam's sweat drenched locks.

Tom's brow furrowed in concern.

Bobby stumbled loudly back through the doorway, his eyes darting to Tom's. "Let's go."

"Dean," Tom gripped the distraught older brother on the arm, "Let me have him; we need to get him to the hospital. Dean? Okay?"

Dean looked wide eyed from Sam's flushed face to Tom, not wanting to relinquish his hold on his little brother.

"Dean, give'm here."

Dean's grip loosened as he stared at Tom's familiar face. He felt large arms tugging Sammy away from him, lifting him easily upward.

"Come on Dean; let's get you in the backseat, so you can hold Sam." Bobby said gently. He gripped Dean's arm and pulled the wobbly man to stand.

Dean nodded wearily, barely noticing the pain that radiated down his side. He leaned heavily against Bobby and shuffled from the room, the cold Minnesota air nipping at his skin as he eased down against the worn leather of the Impala's back seat.

"Sammy, you know I don't do back seats…you got to stop this shit man." Dean offered his whine quietly as Tom laid his compliant little brother up against him.

The older brother tugged the blankets up around Sam, holding him tightly against his chest, Sam's head rolled to rest in the curve of his neck. He kept his eyes focused on his brother as he heard Tom nudge Bobby from the driver's door.

"You're not driving Bobby; you're too tired and upset."

The older hunter muttered something, and then relented; dropping the car keys in Tom's waiting fingers. He dashed around the front of the car and slid into the passenger seat. The door thudded closed and the Impala barreled out of the parking lot.

-0-

7


	9. Chapter 9

**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Beta: All mistakes are my own.**

_Well, I have to admit this story has gotten totally away from me. It was supposed to be a short story – go figure. I just can't seem to help myself. –supernaturaldh-_

**Chapter 9**

**I said I'm Fine **

Andrea Fleming was the front desk clerk at Osanti Memorial, a small hospital where she served as head nurse and receptionist. She had held the position for several years, and loved it, taking care of others had been her goal since she was a child, and she was good at it. Her head rose instantly from the mound of paperwork she was shuffling through at the sound of the automatic doors swinging open. Her breath caught quickly in her throat, glaring at the picture that unfolded in front of her.

Two older men were carrying a limp feverish kid between them, their anxious eyes darting around the room. A younger, sandy haired man, was stumbling along behind them, hunched over, arm clasp tightly around his midsection, sweat soaking his pale, translucent skin.

Andrea hastily dropped the paperwork from her fingers, voice yelling toward the back of the emergency room as she moved into action.

"Help, JOE….I need HELP out here."

She ran around the desk, fingers grabbing the gurney from the side wall, and rolling it steadily toward the wayward group.

"Here, put him down. What happened?" her hands fumbled with the stethoscope around her neck. She felt the heat radiating off the kid. She looked curiously from his frail form to the two men who had hoisted him up to lie against the crisp white bed on wobbly wheels.

"He passed out, think its pneumonia." The man in the baseball cap offered up as he stepped backwards to let the nurse closer in to take a look.

Andrea stuck the cold stethoscope beneath the sweat soaked tee shirt, against the kids rattling chest, and nodded silently at the three men's concerned gazes. Her face fell to the sandy haired man, his blue eyes hazy, but watching her closely. _Man, he's got eyes to die for. _ He swayed slightly on his feet and she refocused her thoughts to the unconscious boy in front of her.

"Better help the other one, he doesn't look too good either," she stated with apprehension as she nodded at the swaying man behind them.

Immediately, Bobby and Tom turned to stare at Dean.

Tom's large hand reached over to steady the weaving hunter. "He's hurt too," he alleged as his fingers gripped at Dean's arm tightly.

Dean's pale face frowned at Tom's words; attempting to pull him self up straighter. "I'm fine." He mumbled.

"Oh yeah, you look great." Bobby stated flatly.

A sudden commotion behind them, and all eyes turned to see a graying man in a white doctor's coat pushing with excessive force through the swinging doors, his black patent leather shoes tapping noisily against the hospital's linoleum floor.

"What we got?" he bellowed loudly, his steady arm all but shoving the three men out of the way, as he moved into the arena, glaring down at Sam.

Dean's brows furrowed into an irritated glower, as adrenaline suddenly pumped fiercely through his veins. "Hey, that's my brother," he blurted angrily.

"I don't give a rat's ass," the doctor said unexpectedly, unease radiating across his steady stare, "This kid is very sick – let's move, NOW."

With that, the gurney vibrated on its wheels through the swinging doors, leaving Bobby, Tom, and Dean to stand, mouths agape, in the older doctor's wake.

-0-

The three overprotective hunters were exiled to the small hospital waiting room; Dean slumped uncomfortably into a chair, too tired and weak to do his usual pacing. Bobby had plopped down across from him, eyeballing him critically.

"You okay?" the older hunter asked with concern.

"I said I'm fine." Dean whispered.

Tom Baldwin rolled his eyes, a low huff emanating across his lips. He eased down on the gold colored couch, eyes shooting daggers at Dean as he crossed his long legs, his boots thudding heavily up against the worn waiting room coffee table.

-0-

Dean Winchester was a lot of things, but patient wasn't one of them. It had been over an hour since Sam had been abruptly removed from his sight, and they hadn't heard a word from anyone, hell, they hadn't even seen anyone, and it was starting to really piss him off. The anger fueled adrenaline that had previously been pumping through his veins had wavered, pain now searing slowly down his injured side. He shuffled uncomfortably in the lumpy chair, eyes darting over at Bobby and Tom who both seemed to be watching his every move.

"Dean," Tom's voice was deep with apprehension, "You need to get checked out too, since we're already here and all."

Bobby nodded his head in agreement.

Dean blinked to clear his wavering vision and clinched his teeth together, holding his pain bay. He shot hazy blue eyes at the two faces glaring at him.

"Nah…" Dean squirmed under the intense scrutiny.

"Dean," Bobby's tone was boarding on anger, no room for debate. He clasped his hands together and leaned physically across into Dean's personal space. "You will get checked out." He barked out the order, just like he had heard John Winchester do on numerous occasions. _No room for compromise with this kid, none, zilch, nada. _His stern face was unrelenting as he stared down his young friend.

Dean slouched, small frown curling on his lips.

Bobby stood his ground, and waited, watched as Dean suddenly became the ten year old he remembered from long ago. The kid that needed someone to take charge, look out for him and not make him carry the burden all alone. _Damn John Winchester_.

Dean shrugged his shoulders slightly, blue eyes softening as he grinned at both the older men.

Bobby smiled as the tension left his body, his hand patting lightly against Dean's kneecap.

"Good." Tom grinned, "I'll just tell the doc."

The large hunter stood up, and moved swiftly toward the swinging doors, nearly bumping headlong into the young nurse exiting into the waiting room.

"Excuse me." Tom side-stepped from her path and watched her move past.

"I just came out to give you guys an update," she said softly to Tom as she shuffled around him.

Dean and Bobby stood, Bobby grabbing Dean's elbow to keep him steady.

The nurse moved around the reception area, picking up a clipboard and paperwork, she came across the small waiting area to stand in front of them.

Tom took three large steps and was standing beside her.

"How's Sammy?" Dean asked immediately as he stared at the young woman.

"He's definitely got pneumonia, both lungs. I don't know how he was even breathing at all. We are admitting him." She thrust the clipboard out toward Dean, "We need this filled out. You do have insurance, right?"

Dean blinked wide eyes at her, the color draining from his face. His knees buckled and Bobby gripped his arm firmly. Tom reached across and pushed the wavering young hunter back down against the chair behind him.

-0-

Dean's vision tunneled, a large hand gripping his arm tightly. The young nurse's words hit him like a blow to the stomach, and he struggled to gulp in some air. He felt his butt hit the lumpy chair cushion, as a heavy hand pushed his head down between his knees. He could hear the voices around him, dancing in the black void that was pulling him under.

"He needs to be checked out…"

"Joe, we got another one out here…"

"Yes, they have insurance…yes…"

Bobby's low voice was the last sound Dean heard as he drifted off into oblivion.

7


	10. Chapter 10

**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Beta: All mistakes are my own.**

**Chapter 10**

**Make Everything Okay**

Dean's eyebrows arched into a frown, as his long lashes fluttered lightly against his pale cheeks. He shrugged his nose up unconsciously; the antiseptic smell flooding his nostrils and burning a quick path down his throat. He blinked, attempting to focus on his surroundings. _Was he in the hospital?_

"Hey buddy." A gruff voice floated to his ears and he turned his head slightly. He blinked to clear his blurry vision, gazing blankly at the weary face that stared back at him. _Tom Baldwin?_

Sudden recognition flooded his senses and he pushed weakly against the pristine white sheets, struggling to set up on the bed. A dull pain shifted down his side.

"Whoa…Dean, wait a minute." Tom's voice rose to a high pitched whine as he stood up and grabbed the young hunter's wobbly arms, holding him steady, and firmly, back against the bed.

"Where's Sam?" Dean looked distraughtly up at Tom.

"He's in the room next door, Bobby's with him." Tom looked sternly into Dean's eyes, "And you need to lie still, you just got a pint of blood."

Dean's face frowned, a slight surprised look falling to his features.

"Sammy okay?"

"He's got pneumonia, but he's holding his own." Tom stated, as he released his vice grip on the young hunters arms.

Dean slumped limply back against the pillows, teeth chewing worriedly on his bottom lip.

"How long?" Dean asked inquisitively, eyes glaring at the IV pole above his head, and the clear liquid that was still draining into his arm.

"You been out about three hours," Tom nodded at the I.V. "They gave you a pint of blood, and now, they are giving you some fluids - pain medication, and antibiotics, get your strength back up."

Dean's eyebrows shrugged, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, that hole the damn Yowie made in your side." Tom grimaced. "I'm goanna get that little son of a bitch," he muttered, as he plopped down harshly against the plastic chair.

Dean glanced down at the white bandage on his side, realizing that he didn't have on anything but his jeans. _No wonder he was cold._ His eyes darted around the room, resting on the t-shirt and jacket balled in a plastic bag, on the floor, by Tom's chair.

"I wan' a see Sammy."

Once again, Dean moved to get up from the bed.

"Damn it Dean, Bobby is with him. Just take it easy, I'll get you over there once the IV bag is finished." Tom lunged forward, forcing Dean to stay in the bed.

Dean fought him weakly, whispered words escaping from his translucent lips, "I can't, Tom, he needs me."

Large green eyes looked pleadingly over at Tom.

The older man released his vice grip on Dean's arms and blew out a weary sigh.

"Let me at least get the nurse, okay. Let's let her remove the IV."

Too late, Dean thought - his fingers abruptly yanking out the IV and slinging it to the floor.

"Jesus….DEAN!" Tom blurted out. He hastily grabbed up a rag from the side table and pressed it to Dean's bleeding arm.

Dean yanked the rag from Tom and pulled away. He swung his legs around to sit up on the bed. A wave of dizziness momentarily assaulted him and he swayed slightly sideways.

"Serves you right - you hard headed ass - I told you to take it easy." Tom shook his head in disbelief as he gripped his young friend at the elbow to steady him.

"I want to see Sam, NOW!" Dean said angrily. He pushed to stand, bare feet thudding to the cold floor.

"You want your damn shoes?" Tom glared at him.

"Yeah, that would be nice," Dean mumbled sheepishly as he eased down against the hard chair Tom had vacated, eyeballing his wiggling toes.

-0-

Dean sat slumped in another chair in an identical room to the one he had vacated. His eyes gazed forlornly at his little brother's lax face.

The respirator clicked and whirred every few seconds, telling the older brother that Sammy was breathing. He watched as Sam's chest rose and fell with the constant sound. He ran his fingers through his kid brother's damp hair, the fever still ravishing Sam's gangly frame. His thumb caressed behind his brother's ear, a comforting motion he had always done for his kid brother. It was a calming gesture, one he did unconsciously, offering reassurance to Sam and himself.

The guilt ate him, taunted him, running rampant through his tired thoughts. _Sam had pneumonia? _

He felt a heavy knot sitting in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe, to move from his perch next to his little brother. _If I hadn't been in such a freaking hurry to hunt – thrown caution to the wind - Sam wouldn't be here. _He sighed heavily, resting his forehead against his shaky hand. _Should have known it was a Yowie, hell, should have known that Sam was sick too. That was his job, he was the big brother…shit… If I hadn't left Sammy at the library, forced him to walk two and half miles in below freezing weather – kid might not be sick right now. _

He gazed at his little brother, regret and worry eating him alive_. Sam's coat wasn't warm enough; he needed a warmer coat… _

"Sammy, it's time to wake up, please kiddo?" Dean's soft voice pleaded.

-0-

Bobby and Tom took shifts sitting with Dean, knowing the older Winchester would eventually be giving in to the fatigue that was hovering just beneath the surface. He had spent two days on a constant vigil, never leaving Sam's side and functioning on coffee alone. No matter how much the older hunters encouraged and begged he wouldn't leave Sam's side. Two days of big brother guilt, and worry; waiting on his Sammy to wake up.

-0-

The whirling and swishing noise was the first conscious thought Sam had, so he concentrated on the reverberation, steady and rhythmic pulsating around him. He could vaguely make out his big brother's voice, far away and pleading.

"Come on Sammy, open your eyes."

Dean sounded scared and afraid, and that, in turn, scared Sam. _He didn't like it when Dean sounded like that._

He focused on Dean's words, willing his heavy eyelids to move.

_Can't breath?_ Sudden panic gripped him. He fought against the pressure, forcing his eyes open. He stared frantically at Dean.

"Whoa, Sammy, take it easy."

Tom and Bobby stood up quickly, moving around the bed.

"I'll get the nurse." Tom offered as he scurried from the room.

"Sammy, you're on a ventilator, kiddo. Just let it work for you, Sammy, listen to me…Sammy! Calm down."

Bobby's firm grip reached up and held gently to Sam's flailing arm.

A firm hand met Sam's forehead and pushed him softly down against the pillow, sea green eyes concentrating on Sam's hazels.

"Look at me Sam." Dean's tone was soft, but firm, attempting to reassure his baby brother. His other hand pressed firmly to Sam's chest, holding him steady.

Dean's words slowly filtered their way to Sam's muddled brain, and he relaxed, falling limply back against the covers. He stared with wide, watery eyes at his brother.

"Shushhhhh, that's it, look at me, Sammy. Breathe, nice and slow, let the machine do it. That's it, easy…easy…"

Dean's words whispered around Sam, filtering through the haze, holding him captive. He listened to the familiar sound of Dean's voice, the cadence he had known his whole life. He obeyed, because that was what he did - when Dean spoke - he listened.

"Okay Samuel, lets get that ventilator out."

Another voice encroached on his hearing, begging to be heard, but Sam stayed focused on the voice he knew, the one that always took care of him, and made everything okay.

6


	11. Chapter 11

**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Beta: All mistakes are my own.**

**Chapter 11**

**Hunters and Friends**

Tom Baldwin stood up stiffly, limbs popping and snapping as he did so. His large six foot four stature cast a long shadow across Bobby Singer's lax body.

Bobby's sleep laden lids blinked open, glaring lazily up at Tom's tired face.

"Wh't time's it?" Bobby muttered, shifting to sit up straighter in the wobbly plastic chair, grimacing as his rigid muscles pulled and tugged. _Hospital furniture sucked. _

"Just after 6:00 a.m." Tom mumbled. He stretched his long arms up over his head and yawned lethargically.

The sounds of the hospital, coming back to life, filtered in around them.

Bobby stood gradually, eyes glancing over at Dean's slouched form. The kid was curled awkwardly in another chair, head resting on Sam's bed, forehead leaning against his little brother's arm. Drool rolled gradually down his chin and dampened the wrinkled white sheet. _Bobby smiled at the picture. Dean would not like that he was caught drooling, not one bit. _ He held back the urge to take a picture with his cell phone. He didn't want to wake the resting hunter, knowing he was still on the mend from his run in with the Yowie. The last couple of days had been hard on Dean, sitting a constant vigil over his sick little brother. _He sure looked uncomfortable as hell._

Bobby shuffled over to stand at Dean's side, silently looking down at Sam. He leaned in closer. His callus fingers ghosting through the youngest Winchesters hair, brushing it lightly off the kid's feverish forehead.

Although Sammy was cooler, he was still a long way from okay. The ventilator had been replaced with an oxygen mask early in the predawn hours, the doctor reassuring all three hunters that Sam was getting better, but it would take some time.

"You feel like hunting today?"

Tom's whispered words drifted across the room, his face contorted up in an inquisitive glare at Bobby.

The older hunter looked up quizzically, fingers still poised in Sammy's long hair.

His steel eyes glinted, eyebrows arching in a taught V.

"Oh, I'd like that a lot."

"What say we hunt this damn Yowie down, and neutralize it - today?"

Tom stood stoic, a hint of a smile tugging to his lips.

"Oh, hell yeah," Bobby replied, anger riddling his tone. _That ugly mother had hurt his boys, and it was going down._

-0-

Dean woke up gradually, the sound of low murmured voices dancing around his ears. He could feel a comforting presence, one that he remembered from his youth, as it hovered just beside him. His head turned slightly, his neck stiff, uncomfortable, as he blinked open his heavy eyelids. He stared directly at the side of Bobby's face. His sluggish greens squinted against the sunlight that filtered through the window and he tilted his head, fingers shielding his face from the glare. He sat silently for a moment, attempting to regain his bearings.

"Hey there," Bobby said softly. He moved quietly away from Sam's side to look directly into Dean's tired face.

Dean's hand flopped back down against his blue jean clad leg, and he shifted in the chair, grimacing slightly at the slight pain in his side. He looked sadly at Bobby, and then, turned his head to look intently back at his sick brother.

"How's Sammy?" He whispered hoarsely, clearing his throat unconsciously as he shifted in the seat.

"He's holding his own."

Bobby moved to the end of the bed to stand next to Tom.

Dean rolled his neck, shrugging up his shoulders to help loosen his tense muscles.

"And how are you?" Tom asked with concern.

Closing his eyes, Dean sighed.

"I'm fine, just fine." His hand reached down and clutched his brother's fingers, gripping them tightly.

-0-

Tom Baldwin leaned against the barren Maple tree, eyes peering around the dimly lit forest, waiting. He raised his eyes to stare across the clearing, taking in the steady form of Bobby Singer, standing firmly against a mound of bushes, eyes focused on the tree line.

The senior hunters had been waiting for hours, in the damp woods, for the creature responsible for an injured Dean. The hunt that was responsible for a very sick Sam. No matter how long it took, they were taking this mother down.

-0-

Sam's fever glossed eyes fluttered open slowly, blinking sleepily at his brother's lackadaisical form.

Dean was dozing in the chair, light snores rising from his parted lips.

Sam moved his shaky hand up to uncomfortable item resting on his face; he tugged it free and stared at it. His sluggish mind finally comprehended that it was an oxygen mask. He felt tightness in his chest and wheezed to take in some air. He relinquished his hold on the mask, letting it fall back against his face. He sucked in deeply, glancing downward to see his other hand, clutched tightly in his older brothers. He smiled weakly, and drifted back to sleep.

-0-

The rustling sound behind him caught Bobby Singer by surprise. He turned gradually on his boots, ears straining to listen to the noise. His finger twitched against the trigger of his gun. He motioned for Tom with a light wave of his hand. A silent signal between them, that something was a miss. Momentarily, he heard Tom ease up next to him, physically leaning forward, and listening for the noise.

Four eyes squinted, straining to locate the creature, before it located them.

Suddenly, a high pitched wail rose up around them as the Yowie bounded from the underbrush, lunging toward Bobby's neck. The older man's gun dropped to the ground with a thud, as he pulled both hands upward to cover his face. The Yowie plowed into him; a harsh, physical blow that knocked him to the ground.

A gunshot permeated the air, a loud ricochet that resounded through the woods.

Bobby closed his eyes, stunned into submission as the animal plunged against him. The moment seemed like a lifetime as he waited for the sharp, fanglike teeth to permeate through his skin. His breath heaved uncontrollably, his hands gripping tightly to the slimy neck of the creature. He batted his eyelids, slowly realizing he was okay, shaky maybe, but still alive and staring into the blood red eyes of the dead Yowie, as it lay, pressed limply against his chest.

"Bobby?"

Tom's voice floated around him.

He felt the weighty creature being pulled away and he blinked, stunned. He stared up at the face that was looking down at him with concern.

"Hey, you okay?"

Tom's large hand squeezed his shoulder tightly, pulling Bobby from his stupor and back to the here and now.

"Y…ye…yeah…I th...think so...so." The older hunter stuttered out. He pushed to set up, hands patting down his torso, glancing down to see if he was in one piece.

"Noth'n hurt'n?" Tom asked with concern, eyes giving Bobby the once over.

"Holy shit, I can't believe that damned thing got the jump on me. Little son of a bitch was fast."

Bobby struggled to stand up.

Tom grinned, and hoisted him to his feet.

"Hey, let's not tell Dean it got the jump on me, the kid will never live it down."

Tom just rolled his eyes and snorted in disbelief.


	12. Chapter 12

**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Chapter 12**

**Being the Big Brother**

Dean woke with a stiff neck, his head twisted slowly as he rubbed at the tightly knotted muscles. He scrubbed his hand down his face and glanced down at his watch, realizing he had slept the afternoon away slumped uncomfortably in a hospital chair. Bobby and Tom had left before lunch, minds set on one thing, to kill the damn Yowie. He sluggishly wondered how that was going, then blinked his sleep laden lids and gazed at Sam's pale face. At least Sammy was resting now, breathing easier, with only an oxygen canal nestled beneath his nose. That was good.

His fingers ghosted over Sam's chestnut hair, thumb caressing lightly behind Sammy's ear. The kid's head rolled unconsciously toward his hand and nuzzled against his fingers. Dean smiled. He was amazed at how vulnerable Sam looked lying in the hospital bed, swaddled in a mass of blankets. It reminded Dean of a younger Sam, an innocent Sam, the kid who counted on his big brother to make everything okay. He sighed. Every time he looked at Sam it reminded him of what this life had cost him, that his Dad was gone. Since John's death, he realized he had pushed Sam away. He had lost sight of his purpose in life –being the big brother, making everything okay. He had been so wrapped up in his own grief, his own sorrow, that he had lost all prospective of what was important. What had always been important – Sammy.

-0-

The evening sun was setting, an amber hue settling across the sterile hospital room. Dean's head tilted slightly, staring wide eyed as the older hunters shuffled through the door. The two men looked beat and disheveled, but gratefully still alive.

Bobby nodded briefly at Dean as he eased over to gaze keenly down at Sam's pale face.

"Hey Sammy," the senior hunter whispered, his hand thumbed through Sam's long hair, pushing the too long strands back from his face. He turned and looked at Dean. "How's he doing?"

"Temps staying around 101, but he hasn't woken up and talked to me." Dean offered, has hand clutching Sam's slack one in his own.

"We got the damn thing." Tom muttered as he slumped tiredly into one of the plastic chairs, eyes gazing reassuringly at Dean.

"Good", Dean said quietly.

The three hunters sat silently, watching Sam's chest rise and fall.

-0-

Sam moved restlessly in the bed.

"Sammy, it's time to wake up buddy." Dean's voice soothed, fingers stroking slowly through his chestnut hair, thumb pressing out the pain lines etched against the still feverish brow.

Tom leaned forward in his chair, fingers clasped tightly together, staring intently at Sam. _Did the kid's eyelashes just flutter?_

"Please Sammy, wake up for me." Dean whispered his bloodshot eyes never straying from his little brothers insipid face.

"I think he's comin' 'round," Tom said impatiently.

Bobby pushed to set up straighter.

Dean's free hand clasped over Sam's limp fingers once again, griping them tightly in his own. He continued to whisper words of comfort and reassurance, encouraging the kid to wake up.

"He's waking up." Bobby leaned in closer to the side of the bed.

-0-

Sam floated in the space between consciousness and oblivion. His nose wriggled involuntarily at the smell of antiseptic, old spice, and leather that permeated through his foggy senses. He felt a warm hand caress his forehead, a continual babble of words floating through the heavy mist that blurred his feverish mind.

He wanted to open his eyes, he really did, but his eyelids felt like they were weighed down with boulders. He sighed reflexively and struggled harder to pull open his heavy lids.

"Please Sammy, wake up for me," the voice murmured through hazy shadows and tugged him toward the light.

He blinked sluggishly, cloudy pupils attempting to focus on the unclear face in front of him. His voice formed one word, just a mere whisper across his translucent lips.

"D'n?"

-0-

Dean heard Sam's frail voice whispering his name. His mossy green eyes taught with worry, he leaned in closer to his brother's pale face.

"You're gonna be okay, kiddo. I gotcha," the older brother murmured as gentle fingers pushed chestnut bangs away from Sam's forehead.

Sam's stirred restlessly, his disoriented eyes blinking open to mere slits. He licked his dry lips and swallowed thickly, gazing incoherently at the group.

Suddenly, a cup rested against his lower lip, his head raised slightly by a familiar hand.

"Drink Sam," Bobby's low voice ordered.

Sam gulped greedily at the cool liquid, silently relishing the feeling as it washed against his parched throat.

"Whoa, Sammy, not so fast," Dean instructed gently, and the cup was moved away.

He blinked his cloudy hazels as the room gradually came into focus, and he recognized the faces staring attentively down at him.

"Hey there Sammy, glad to see you back with us." Tom's low voice stated.

Sam stared at Bobby and Tom. His forehead scrunched into immediate lines of confusion. _Where was he? Why did his limbs feel so heavy and uncooperative? Why was he so tired?_

Dean saw the tension that suddenly rested on Sam's face. "Easy Sammy," he whispered, "You're in the hospital, its okay. Take it easy…its okay."

Sam's mind slowly accepted Dean's comforting words, and anxiety slowly smoothed from his features. He shifted restlessly on the bed, then, felt gentle fingers ghosting through his hair, comforting him, lulling him back to sleep. _Dean was here, it was all okay_.

Sam looked sluggishly up at Dean's intense green eyes, fear slowing ebbing from his older brother's face as a bright smile took it over.

"I gotcha little brother, I gotcha. Go back to sleep."

"'Kay" Sam mumbled, and blinked his heavy lids.

Silence descended on the room.

Sam blinked lazily, his eyes drifting closed.

Dean's fingers hovered through Sam's hair, a quiet, low hum easing from his lips.

Sam's eyes stayed closed. _Was that Metallica? _ His breath evened out as gentle slumber came to claim him and he drifted back to sleep.

6


	13. Chapter 13

**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Chapter 13**

**Never Going to Deal **

The sunlight glared through the windows as the muffled sounds of the waking hospital wafted in around Sam. His nose wiggled slightly as he began to recognize the slight antiseptic smell. His memory was foggy and he barely cracked open his eyelids attempting to pull himself from the heavy medicated sleep.

Dean saw the sluggish movement and his hand reached out to brush Sam's long unruly bangs lightly from his sleeping face. He couldn't believe how sick Sam had been, nor that he hadn't picked up on it before he had trudged them both out into the woods to hunt the freaking Yowie. If it hadn't been for Bobby, well, he didn't even want to think about that.

"De'n?" Sam's voice was weak. His whole body felt sluggish and heavy, limbs aching from the slightest motion. He squinted unconsciously at the brilliant white light that was blaring through the windows and falling harshly across his face.

Dean hustled from his perch in the chair and quickly closed the window blinds, causing the light to dim, the low shadows fleeting across Sam's weary face.

"Sammy?" Dean inched forward, his hand reaching down to grasp at his brother's forearm loosely. "Come on, wake up now." He encouraged as he stared attentively at Sam's pale face.

Sam blinked, hazily, incoherent eyes clearing slightly, as he squinted and gazed up at the familiar face.

"How you feelin' there bro?" Dean whispered, gripping Sam's hand tightly for a moment, a warm smile curling to his lips.

"Mmmmm" Sam said in a low voice, looking perplexed and out of sorts, as he continued to stare blankly up at Dean.

The younger Winchester had been through a rough couple of days, pneumonia ravaging his exhausted body. Since his father had died, Sam hadn't been sleeping well, mind constantly reliving the last angry words he had spoken to John Winchester. The magnitude of his father's death had weighed heavily on his mind, and to top it all off, Dean just wasn't talking to Sam, but, holding back his emotions, and hunting with a vengeance. All those occurrences, coupled with Dean's insistence that they hunt the Yowie had thrown Sam into a downward spiral that ended him up here, in the small hospital in Osanti, Minnesota.

Sam blinked at him curiously, fingers curling slightly around Dean's hand.

Dean eased his weary bones back down against the hard plastic chair. _Thank god, he looks better. _He glanced down realizing he was still holding Sam's hand. He quickly released Sam's fingers

_Was Dean just holding my hand? _The slowly waking Sam blinked wide eyed at his older brother.

A slight blush flushed across Dean's face and he shuffled uncomfortably.

"Weren't Bobby and Tom here?" Sam whispered curiously. He pushed his body upward with weak arms. He attempted to set up straighter in the bed and a deep rattling cough shuddered through is body.

"Easy there kiddo," Dean scolded, hand falling to Sam's back, He reached over and picked up a cup of water and placed it into Sam's trembling hand.

Sam nodded slowly; taking the cup, he moved it unsteadily toward his lips and momentarily relished the feel of cool water against his parched throat. The motion alone wore him out, and if not for Dean's secure grip, he would have easily dropped the cup. He smiled weakly at Dean and slumped shakily back against the bed.

"They went back to the motel to get some rest around midnight." Dean said as he sat the cup back down against the metal table.

Sam stared blankly, slow reality sinking into his weary bones. He noticed the dark circles that adorned Dean's exhausted face. _How long had he been out of it? _

"You should've gone with'em," Sam whispered as he gave Dean a slight frown, "You look tired."

"Humph," Dean huffed in exasperation, "You need to take a look in the mirror there kiddo."

One of Sam's shoulders shrugged slightly. "How long…" he croaked out.

"Three days." Dean sighed and shuffled to find a comfortable position in the hard chair.

Sam looked even more confused with Dean's words. _Three days? _

I don't 'member," Sam's eyelids started to droop as his exhausted body gave in to the pull of sleep.

"Just rest Sam."

-0-

"I still can't believe that Yowie got the jump on me." Bobby's head shook in disbelief. He glanced over at the large man that lumbered down the hospital hallway next to him, a sheepish grin curled against his face.

"Yeah, it was pretty darn quick," Tom's reassuring voice replied. _No since in rubbing it in. _

Bobby's hand reached up and pushed the doorway to Sam Winchester's hospital room open, eyes falling to the sleeping kid.

"How's he doing?" Tom asked as both men eased in to stand next to the hospital bed.

Dean's head rose, bloodshot green eyes staring at the entering hunters. "He just went back to sleep, fever's down, looks like he's goanna be okay."

Both men smiled in relief.

"You can go rest up Dean, we'll sit with him." Bobby offered, intense face looking firmly at the exhausted Dean.

"No, I'm staying right here." Dean squint his tired eyes up at them both.

Tom released an exasperated sigh, "Dean you got to take care of yourself."

"No," Dean said, slight regret rippling through his tone, "I got to take care of Sam."

-0-

Dean's eyebrows waggled at Sam, fingers gripping tightly around the wheelchair handles, "Here you go princess - doc says you got to ride out of here."

Sam shook his head no, then, rolled his eyes at his big brother. He smiled hopefully at the nurse standing next to the bed, hoping his brother was wrong.

"I don't need it." Sam said wistfully.

"Sorry Samuel, but it is hospital policy," the middle age nurse stated flatly.

Dean smiled wickedly at his little brother, "Your chariot awaits bro."

The nurse reached out and gripped Sam's elbow to steady his shaky attempt at standing, his weak body betraying the firm words from that had just escaped from lips.

Dean watched with deep concern as the youngest Winchester eased his weak body down against the chair.

"Its okay," Sam whispered quietly. He was still dog tired, doped up on antibiotics, anti-inflammatory drugs and various other medications as part of his recovery from pneumonia.

Tom and Bobby had already gone to Bobby's saying they would have the house 'patient ready' for Sam's release. No one had asked Sam if it was okay if they went to Bobby's, Dean taking charge and advising that they would be there as soon as Sam was released. That was three days back, and Sam had fought daily with Dean, eagerly hoping that he would spring him from the hospital early. No such luck, Dean would not relent - Sam was staying until the doctor released him, end of discussion.

It bothered Sam that Dean had never left his side, staying in the room twenty-four seven. His brother had hardly been talking to him before the hunt for the Yowie, and now he was stuck to him like glue. It was unnerving to Sam. Dean unwilling to talk about what had happened, about their late father, the grief was something Dean was not dealing with, and Sam was beginning to think he never would.

Dean waved at the nurse one last time as he slammed the driver's door closed, he glanced over at Sam. His brother was still very pale, and tired. He would leave the radio off. He reached over the bench seat and pulled the army blanket from the Impala's floorboard, quickly dropping it against Sam's chest.

"Here," he whispered.

Sam smiled wearily, "Thanks."

Dean pointed the Impala down the highway, destination – Bobby Singer's house, and some much needed downtime.

-0-

_Okay- I was going to make this the last chapter, but…I can't end this on Chapter 13. Guess I am superstitious…go figure, anyhow, working on the next and probably final chapter. Sorry for the delays, the holidays really slowed this one down for me. Thank you for all the kind reviews, they mean a lot. – supernaturaldh-_

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	14. Chapter 14

**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Chapter 14**

**Do My Job**

The wipers tapped out a staccato rhythm against the windshield and Dean's fingers beat a silent tempo against the steering wheel. He refused to turn on the radio, knowing his recovering little brother needed to rest. He glanced sideways at the gangly body folded awkwardly in the bench seat. It still amazed him how Sam could fit himself inside the car, let alone look so comfortable doing it. He grinned, his fingers reaching over to tug the army blanket back up against his sleeping sibling's side.

"De…" a drowsy voice mumbled, lashes fluttering slightly, "we th're?"

"Shhh, Sammy, sleep," Dean encouraged, fingers brushing lightly through the chestnut brown locks.

And Sam did, his head nuzzling deeper into the cool black leather, as Dean's hand drifted silently through his dark hair, lulling him back to sleep.

-0-

Bobby Singer's head pulled upward from his research, the rumbling sound of the familiar Impala catching his attention. "Look's like the boy's have arrived." He grinned at Tom as they both shuffled toward the front door.

Dean's bright smile greeted the two hunters as he eased out of the driver's door. He nodded toward the slumbering Sam, as he moved hastily around to the passenger door and tugged it gently open. He crouched, face level with Sam's resting form as his hand clasped against his brothers lax arm.

"Sammy, we're here kiddo."

Sluggish eyes blinked open and gazed blankly at Dean for a moment. Slow recognition flashed across the hazel orbs as the pale little brother looked from Tom to Bobby. He pushed awkwardly against the blanket that covered him.

"Hey guys," he whispered, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

Both older hunters smiled.

"Dean, keys, I'll get the bags." Tom offered, fingers waggling in front of Dean's face.

Dean's head nodded slightly as he slipped the car keys into Tom's awaiting fingers.

"Need some help, Sam?" Bobby asked as he moved to stand next to Dean.

Blue green eyes peered through the too long bangs and a soft smile curled to Sam's lips. "I got it." He said self assuredly.

Both brother and father figure moved slightly back, allowing Sam the room he seemed to need.

The young hunter pushed shakily to stand, both Bobby and Dean's hands poised directly behind him as he shuffled along, just in case.

The young hunter moved slowly forward until he reached the front steps. His hand fell shakily to the railing as he attempted to steady the spinning world around him.

"I...Th...think I need some 'elp," he whispered.

Two hands immediately gripped Sam's arms, steadying his swaying movement and offering the needed assistance. The younger hunter accepted the offered help and moved unsteadily up the four weather worn steps.

He was really glad when he made it to the couch.

-0-

Tom looked intently at Dean's tired face. The young man had been through a lot in the last couple of months, almost dying in a car wreak, loosing his father, and now, watching his brother recover from the botched hunt for the Yowie, and a vicious bout with pneumonia. He and Bobby both realized that Dean was carrying around some guilt with regards to his recovering brother. They just couldn't quite put there finger on why. The large hunter pushed a cup of coffee at Dean's exhausted face, as he sat down in the old oak chair. He looked curiously at Dean, the oldest Winchester sitting stoically at the kitchen table.

"Sam's sleeping on the couch," Bobby said as he entered the kitchen, yanked up a broken coffee cup and poured it full cup of the steaming hot liquid. His eyes darted over both men, gaining a quizzical look from Tom.

"So, what's going on with you Dean?" Bobby asked inquisitively as he sat abruptly down in one of the empty chairs.

Dean's head rose, bloodshot eyes staring at Tom and Bobby. "Nothing." He muttered.

"Oh come on Dean, you been wallowing around here all damn week. Sam's getting better, what is the deal." Bobby asked unsympathetically as he slammed his cup down against the dull Formica tabletop.

The tired Winchester sucked in a stifled breath. "I didn't do my job," he sighed heavily, draining his coffee cup dry.

"What job's that?" Tom asked.

"Dad said, take care of Sam," Dean whispered, "and I didn't, I was so wrapped up in myself, I couldn't focus…I..."

"Aw gees," Bobby hissed out, "That's just stupid Dean, you didn't know he was getting sick."

"I should've." Dean pushed away from the table as he stood to his full height, bleary eyes gazing at both men.

"Dean, you just lost your Dad, you had a lot to deal with…." Tom's voice trailed off.

"He was Sam's dad too." The young hunter whispered as he moved slowly from the room.

-0-

A week later, and a lot of sleep, and Sam was beginning to feel almost human again. He still felt weak, but he could stay awake for more than twenty minutes at a time, and that alone made him happy. He lounged against the bedspread; long body sprawled out on the twin bed that he remembered as a child. He smiled and pulled his head up from the screen as he heard his older brother shuffle into the room.

"Aren't you supposed to be sleeping, not surfing the net?" Dean eyed his little brother and the open laptop poised in front of him.

"I was bored," Sam offered with a grin, "thought I'd find us a new gig."

"Not anytime soon you won't." Dean said vehemently.

"Deaaaannnn," Sam whined.

Dean just rolled his eyes and plopped down on the bed next to Sam, firm fingers shutting the laptop closed as it rested in Sam's hands.

"Not happening Sam so just forget it."

"But…I found a hunt in Nebraska, close by and…"

"Nope." Dean said firmly.

Sam's face frowned in a deep V.

An awkward silence settled between the brothers, Dean's face a mask of too many emotions for Sam to grasp.

"You mad…mad at me?" Sam asked curiously.

Dean was taken aback, "What? No…no Sam, I'm not mad at you."

Sam's face contoured in confusion, "You look mad." He muttered.

The silence stretched around them, Dean sighing loudly before he finally spoke. "At myself maybe…yeah."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Going off half cocked on a hunt, not talking to you, not researching. I was unfocused on the hunt, have been a lot in the last couple of months. I can't keep taking a chance…"

"What chance?" Sam queried face contouring up into confusion.

"Loosing you…" Tears glistened in the older brothers green eyes and he swiped them quickly away with the back of his hand. "Dad's gone…we…we only got – each other."

"Dean…" Sam murmured, not knowing what had brought on his big brother's meltdown. He blinked back his own welling tears.

"I lost my focus…what's important, and well, I almost lost you."

Sam looked wide eyed at Dean.

"I can't bring Dad…back, but, but… I can take care of you."

Sam's eyes glistened with Dean's emotional confession. _He finally had his brother back. _

"I can do my job."

**The End**

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	15. Chapter 15

**A Struggle to Survive"**

**By: supernaturaldh**

**Chapter 15**

**Thank you to everyone over at SNTV Awards 2009. I was stunned to be nominated for Best Monsters and Creatures Award and even more surprised when I won!! Amazing!! If you voted for me I appreciate it!! Denise **

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